


C'est la Vie

by StormyMonday



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Tags subject to change at any time, only ship tags are in order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyMonday/pseuds/StormyMonday
Summary: The war is over,  but not all is well.  After suffering a devastating loss,  and weeks of soul searching,  Allen decides to leave the Order.  In retrospect,  it may be the best decision he's ever made.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes: This story takes place after the conclusion of the Ark arc and pretends like the series wraps right then and there. In other words, no Level 4 arc, and definitely no Noah memories/Allen disappearing weirdness. I’m more than happy to leave the latter to Hoshino-sensei, and fanfic writers more talented than I.

**September,  1900**

Mixed emotions washed over the now freelance Exorcist as he laid a bouquet of flowers on the memorial dedicated to his friend and former comrade. It had been four years since her death, and even now, though her body had never been recovered from the murky ocean depths off the coast of China, a part of him refused to believe she had died alongside the Level Three they referred to as Eshi. He never once doubted it when they said there was no stopping her once she'd made the decision to go after the beast, but what he couldn't understand was that they let her face the demon alone. That wasn't teamwork, as she and Lavi were so quick to remind him in the past, it was suicide. Most people would have been angry, but he preferred to believe that they were wrong and that she was out there recovering in some peaceful, out of the way place.

At first, that is.

As days turned to weeks, and weeks to months after their hard-won victory over the Earl, his optimism faded as anger, guilt and frustration slowly erased the silver lining of the very dark and persistent thunderhead towering above him. It was heavy and stifling, making him feel as if he were being crushed under its ever-present weight.

And so, one very long and sleepless night after visiting her empty room, he made a decision that, only a few months ago, he would never have considered - to gather his belongings and leave the Order for good. After all, the missions were now generally of the cleanup variety, and those that weren't were more suited to the intelligence gatherers, neither of which he wanted to be a part of.

Since then, he wandered, sometimes aimlessly, other times with specific destinations in mind, but two things never changed: the promise he made to Mana, and his calling to free the remaining akuma whenever and wherever he found them.

A soft, unusually warm breeze caressed his skin as he pulled back the hood of his uniform and then wiped away a few stray tears, a mixture of sadness and resolve reflected in his silver eyes. This was madness, and it was time to move on. “Goodbye Lenalee. I'm sorry, for everything.”

* * *

 

After leaving Lenalee's memorial site, Allen returned to his room at the hotel. Surprisingly, he slept rather well that night, something he couldn't remember doing in quite some time, if ever. Maybe she had given him her blessing, or maybe the past 1, 460 days had taken more of a toll on him than he realized. Either way, it didn't matter. He was ready to finally stand on his own and make a life for himself.

The next morning found the nineteen-year-old and his always-faithful companion at a small, out-of-the-way table in the hotel's downstairs restaurant finishing breakfast and planning their next destination. “So Tim, where should we go next?” The little golem ascended from its perch atop the young man's shoulder and projected an image on the opposite wall.

Allen sighed heavily and shook his head, the light of a new day's optimism fading quickly from his silver eyes. The balance between life and death was slowly being restored throughout the world, but because the remaining akuma were now without a purpose and a master, they were more destructive than ever. This however, didn't look like the work of the wayward, unrestrained demons, although it was inevitable they would be flocking to the devastation like moths to a flame. Allen didn't let himself think about how high the death toll must be.

The little winged ball answered by replacing the first image with a map of the United States and a storm track graphic.

The Exorcist raised an eyebrow as visions of cacti, endless expanses of desert, tumbleweeds, and daily gunfights came to mind. If he was correct in assuming this wasn't caused by akuma, then it must have been the aftermath of a natural disaster. With visions of the ‘Wild West' firmly cemented in his mind, Allen offhandedly hoped the womanizing, alcoholic he used to call Master had never ventured that far south in his time traveling across the pond, because that was exactly where he and Timcampy were going. If nothing else, he could at least help the townspeople rebuild.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkwardness for everyone involved, a single mother and her curious daughter, and a unicorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back! First, I just want to say how happy I am to have had so many people hit that kudos button! As you can see from my profile, I have exactly one DGM fic to my name, and this is it! Because it’s “canon divergent” (Is that really the correct term? All these new technical categorization terms confuse me.), I’m finding it a bit difficult to write, mainly in the way of acceptable characterization, as well as getting to know my main OCs. Basically, I’m along for ride just as much as you are. Anyway, I wrote out/contemplated three or four different scenarios for how Allen and my OC, Grace, could meet, and I ultimately decided making him her ninety-nine percent willing hostage would be the most fun (for me)! Fair warning, though, my habit is writing outside of canon, and I don’t do action/adventure. As such, this story will be heavy on character analysis, dialogue, and character interaction. That in mind, I hope you enjoy!

_The world is so unpredictable._ _Things happen suddenly, unexpectedly. We want to feel we’re in control of our own existence. In some ways we are, in some ways we’re not. We are ruled by the forces of chance and coincidence. - Paul Auster_  

 **October**  

**Houston, Texas**

Until the clock chimed,  Allen wasn't sure what time it was. The dreamless sleep he had lapsed into only seconds after hitting the cobblestone street below was something of a double-edged sword,  oddly comforting and somewhat distressing at the same time – comforting in the sense that he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat for once,  but distressing in that his nightmares had become sadly comforting. At the very least, they were one of the few constants in his life.  

Once he had fully awakened,  though, and adjusted his vision to the gently flickering, lavender-scented candles illuminating the room, it was clear that the past  hours had done little to ease the pain from his injuries. It was all very ironic,  laughable even,  that he could count on one hand the number of times he'd hurt this badly. At some point in his life,  although he wasn't sure when or where,  he'd heard it said that something as trivial as a paper cut was capable of causing more pain than a life threatening injury Under the circumstances, this seemed a fair comparison.  

Surveying the room as best as he could – his head hurt and his vision was still somewhat blurred - it was clear that he was definitely  _not_ in a doctor's office,  and certainly not a hospital, but rather the bedroom of a residence, likely a small house. Judging by the furnishings and décor, it was reasonable to assume that a woman lived here. 

“What happened to your eye?” 

And apparently, a young child.  

Turning his head,  Allen was met by a curious little girl of no more than seven or eight years, with shoulder-length, light-brown hair and hazel eyes, dressed in a pink, long-sleeved cotton nightgown fringed by white frills. Evidently,  he was still somewhat dazed, as well, otherwise he would have noticed the girl standing  _right next_ _to_ _him._  Unsure of how to answer the girl,  or whether to change the subject entirely,  he decided to sit up first,  only to be forced back by a sharp,  searing pain in his side.  

The little girl frowned. “Mommy told me to tell you that you shouldn't try to move around too much yet.” 

Allen winced and groaned softly.  “That…would have been more helpful if you had told me five seconds ago,  but thank you.  I'll keep that in mind.” Carefully,  he took in a slow breath before regarding the small creature kneeling beside the bed.  “What's your name, little one?” 

She smiled brightly, shifting her weight on her knees. “Emily Mae Dawson, but Mommy usually just calls me ‘Emi' or ‘Em' for short.” She tilted her head. ”What's yours?” 

He brought a gloved hand from beneath the covers, offering it to the girl, smiling as she tentatively wrapped her small fingers around his.  “It's very nice to meet you,  Emily Mae Dawson. My name is Allen Walker.” 

Emily pulled back her hand, still studying him. “I'm supposed to tell her if you need anything.” She inched closer. “So?” 

“So…what?” 

“Do you?” 

Allen shook his head, amused. “No, thank you. Where is your mother,  anyway? Surely you aren't here by yourself.” 

Wide-eyed, she mimicked him, shaking her head, as well. “Uh-uh. Mommy’s washing the blood out of your clothes. She says you got hurt real bad.” 

Allen blinked. “My…clothes?”  

Emily nodded, folded her hands on the side of the bed, resting her chin on them. “Mhm.” 

Suddenly,  things had gone from absurd and mildly amusing to awkward and uncomfortable, in more ways than one. Maybe he hadn't noticed immediately,  due to being covered by  two soft sheets and a heavy comforter, or the strange, dull,  tingling sensation coursing through his skin. “So…am I going to get to meet your father, too?” 

The girl shook her head. “No, he's in Heaven.” 

He glanced away for an instant, and then back, her matter-of-fact tone sounding more like she had just stated something obvious, like the sky was blue, or water wet. Truthfully, even though her answer made him feel guilty, Allen was relieved. “Oh...I’m very sorry for your loss.”  

She tilted her head. “Why?” 

“Don’t you miss him?” 

Emily shrugged. “I never met him.”  

Nodding,  Allen considered his own childhood, or lack thereof, if only briefly. Single mothers were something of a rare species as far as he knew, most living with family until another suitable husband agreed to marry her and provide for them. If not that, occasionally there was an even rarer type of woman,  the prostitute who found herself pregnant,  but actually decided to  _keep_ the baby. Both scenarios had always left him feeling quite bitter the few times he bothered to think about them, neither of which he had any firsthand knowledge of. 

Pushing these dark thoughts back out into the universe, a much lighter question replaced them, and he turned his attention back to the child. “Tell me, do like clowns?” Considering the company, and that he was at a marked disadvantage anyway, it seemed like a legitimate topic for conversation.   

She shook her head. “No.” 

Allen blinked in disbelief. That certainly wasn't the answer he had expected. “Why not?” 

Pensive, she frowned. “Mommy says clowns are scary and evil.” 

Allen raised an eyebrow at this. “Scary and evil, huh? That's a bit harsh. Why would she say something like that?” 

“I dunno.” Suddenly bored with the conversation,  the little girl bounced to her feet, a sudden light sparking in her hazel irises. “Don't go  _anywhere._ I'll be right back.” 

He exhaled, turning his attention to the ceiling for no discernible reason than it was there. “Right.” It was just as well. Left alone,  he pushed through the same sharp, burning pain he'd experienced before and sat up, lifting the covers just enough to see underneath. A blood-soaked bandage was barely visible under a thin hospital gown, its gauze encompassing the area  from just under his lower ribs downward toward his hip on his right side.  Sighing in relief that he was at least wearing  _something_ , he then arranged the pillow to a more comfortable position, and carefully leaned back. He'd found himself in more than a few strange predicaments before,  but this wasn't one of them. A brief moment later,  his ears perked at the sound of two voices not far away. One he assumed to be the girl's mother, while the other was clearly Emily's.  

 _“_ _Excuse me. And just what do you think you're_ _doing_ _up so late_ _, young lady?”_  

 _“I'm taking_ _Mister_ _Jellybeans_ _to_ _meet Mister Allen_ _.”_  

An exasperated sigh followed.  _“I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I told you not to bother him!_ _Never mind that it's_ ** _way_** _past your bedtime!_ _”_  

The little girl replied without missing a beat, and he could practically hearher mischievous grin.  _“_ _You_ _said not to bother him while he was_ ** _sleeping.”_**  

The woman sighed heavily.  _“Fine, but then_ _it's bedtime_ _for real,  okay?”_  

 _“You're no_ _fun. I'm not even tired_ _,”_ Emily pouted. 

 _“I'm going to be even less fun_ _if you keep sassin'_ _me_ _,_ _smarty_ _pants_ _,”_ the older woman replied,  her stern words contrasting with the smile in her voice.  

Within a few seconds, the little girl entered the room,  followed closely by her mother - a petite, sapphire-eyed young woman, wearing a powder-blue dress and ballet-style slippers, her sunshine-blonde hair pulled back into a looped ponytail-bun.  

The girl reclaimed her previous place beside his bed and offered her favorite stuffed animal – a white unicorn with multicolored yarn for its mane and tail and pieces of felt for eyes. She smiled, and her eyes lit up when her new friend accepted the toy. “This is Mister Jellybeans. He always helps me feel better when I'm not feeling good.” The girl turned when she heard her mother clear her throat in an exaggerated fashion. “I mean  _well_ _._ ” 

The blonde smiled at her daughter. “That's my girl.” She motioned to the girl. “ Now, say goodnight.” 

Emily turned to Allen before padding over to her mother. “Goodnight!” 

“Goodnight, Em. It was nice meeting you.” He held up the small toy. “And don't worry,  I'll take good care of him.” 

The blonde woman let Emily go ahead of her and turned to her unfortunate guest. “I'm so sorry.  I hope she didn't bother you too much.” 

Allen smiled obligingly. “Not at all. I'm just glad Mister Jellybeans isn't a cat.”  

The woman backed out of the room, pulling the door to behind her. ‘A cat? What in the world is  _that_  supposed to mean?’ 

* * *

 Several minutes and a light nap later, Allen woke again just as the blonde re-entered the room. She closed the door slightly and turned on the bedside table lamp before pulling a chair up next to the bed and sitting. “I swear, that girl will be the death of me someday.” She turned her attention to him, willfully pushing the less-than-desirable particulars to the back of her mind. By no means was she a medical professional, nor had she ever claimed to be, but in her mind, her unique ability required the same amount of professionalism. She offered her hand. “Grace Elizabeth Dawson, full-time mother and school teacher, part-time healer, in that order, at your service.”  

He reciprocated, adding a charming, yet somewhat ill-at ease smile, while absentmindedly fiddling with the multicolored yarn affixed to  his temporary good luck charm. “Allen Walker. Pleased to meet you, Miss Dawson.” 

She seemed perplexed. “Walker?” 

Allen nodded, noting her sudden change in demeanor. “Is something wrong? You seem a little out of sorts.” 

Grace shook her head, quickly letting her annoyance fade. “It's not a big deal, really. Just that I taught Em it's impolite to call adults by their first names.”  

He chuckled softly. “ Don’t worry about it. I don't mind at all.” 

She smiled apologetically. “Anyway, you and I  _are_  adults, so please, call me Grace. So, how are you feeling?” 

His expression turned sober, and he returned to fidgeting with the stuffed toy. “A little confused, to be honest.” 

Grace was visibly concerned, shifting slightly and leaning in just a bit. “Confused?” 

“Yes. Can you tell me how I got here?” 

“You don't remember what happened?” 

Clearly, she was much more worried than she should be. “Oh, it's not that. I just don't remember how I got  _here_.” 

Grace sighed, relieved. “Well, you blacked out right away, which isn't unusual, seeing as you fell off the top floor of a building. Doc Baker and I just happened to see the whole thing...” She paused. “Since he's dealing with a suspected case of White Plague at the hospital and was sure your wound isn't serious, we brought you here to recover after making sure the bleeding  stopped.” 

He frowned and looked away, now aware of irony's full contempt, as if the entire incident was some kind of cosmic practical joke. “I see.”  Admittedly, it was his own fault, but under the circumstances, it couldn’t be helped. The area was simply too crowded to use Clown Belt without anyone noticing. 

Grace sighed, shaking her head. “Here’s the thing; you fell off the roof of a four-story building and a piece of wrought iron fence tried its best to slice you open like a ripe watermelon. You're damn lucky; blessed you weren't  _killed._ ” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Accidents happen.” 

Turning his silver eyes back to her sapphire blues, he returned the smile, a hint of red coloring his cheeks. “Actually…you didn't see the whole thing.” 

Grace regarded him curiously. “What do you mean?” 

“I…may or may not have hammered my own thumb and then lost my footing on a loose shingle before falling.” That in itself was embarrassment enough. Anything beyond was on a ‘need-to-know' basis.  

She flushed, a slightly impish grin crossing her light-pink lips. “Is that all? And here I thought it was because under that thin layer of cotton you're naked as the day you were born.” 

And just like that, the proverbial ‘elephant in the room’ made its grand entrance. 

He laughed nervously. “Um…well,  there  _is_  that… I'm sorry. You’ve been kind enough to take me in and all I've  done is feel sorry for myself.” 

“It's fine.” She took in a deep breath. “But you  _do_ know I'm going to have to redress your bandage at some point.” 

Just as Allen began to protest, there came a light knock on the bedroom door.  

“Mommy?” 

Grace held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” She stood and met her little girl in the doorway, lowering her hand to smooth the girl’s hair. “What is it, sweetie?” 

Allen sighed heavily, grateful for the reprieve. It was temporary, but at least he had a few minutes to figure out how to temper the blonde’s determination.  

Half asleep, yet with an air of being slightly perturbed, Emily rubbed her sleepy eyes. “There’s a funny looking bird trying to get in my window.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three will pick up straight from here. Lots more conversation to come. Also, the voices in my head and I would love to know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapter is short, sorry. It took me literally weeks to write, and was originally more…in-depth. After several rewrites, the whole thing just felt sluggish, so this is the end result. I absolutely loathe writing first chapters. Anyway, I still have some important details to pin down and don’t really know how often I’ll update, so please bear with me.  
> Oh, and if I don't get the next chapter out before Christmas or New Year's Day, Happy Holidays! ;)


End file.
